The Road Ahead
by Gawd Complex
Summary: Usually apostates avoided templars, as they should. Carver truly hates being his brother's keeper. A conversation with Varric unexpectedly gives him a push needed to move forward.


**Set during Act 1, before the Deep Roads. I apologize if I made any references to things taking place later in the story.**

How Carver had ended up at the Hanged Man with Varric, he couldn't quite remember.

He had been walking around the streets of Kirkwall, running an errand for his mother, when had he noticed more templars than usual, and a familiar and unpleasant feeling settled within him. He knew they were looking for mages, he could just tell from their numbers and the way they eyed every random citizen with suspicion and something bordering on hostility.

That meant something blatantly magical had happened within the city, probably something dangerous and flashy, and now the templars were looking for those responsible.

His feet led him to the Hanged Man without him leading them there consciously, and he had already ordered a pint of ale (and consumed half of it) before Varric had joined him at his table.

His thoughts were all jumbled and chaotic (and the added alcohol had probably not been his wisest decision) and all he could think about was that today might be the day that his idiot of a brother inevitably got himself arrested. Carver had not been pleased when he discovered just how many times Garrett turned out to be involved (in some sort of way) with whatever had set the templars off on another witch-hunt.

Carver downed his pint with the urgency of a dying man. Varric looked at him with fascination, and made no effort to hide it.

"Honestly, Junior. We don't even know whether Hawke's involved or not."

Carver didn't fail to notice that Varric seemed more amused than anything else. The prospect of his brother getting arrested by templars didn't seem to faze him, almost as if it was an impossibility in his mind.

"They could be after any apostate hiding in the city—and we both know there are enough out there. They may as well be after Blondie or Daisy. So, just relax."

Varric's nonchalance had anything but a soothing effect on him. He felt his stomach tighten. His brother made himself an even easier target through the company he kept. If the templars were indeed after Garrett's apostate friends, then just a tiny bit of investigation would lead them towards his brother.

No matter how Carver looked at him, his brother was always just a few moments away getting arrested by templars and ending up in the Circle.

Garrett had left that morning before Carver had even gotten out of his bed. He had no idea where his brother had gone, or who was with him. It filled him with dread. His brother had managed to gather an impressive group of misfits and outcasts around him. The concept of keeping a low profile seemed alien to him.

"Thanks for reminding me about the abomination and the blood mage," Carved hissed.

Varric raised his eyebrows, and finally he seemed to realize that Carver was not in the mood for his jokes. At least, Carved hoped so.

"Just calm down, Junior. Have another drink."

Carver was not the type of person to decline a drink when offered. Calming down was proving to be a lot harder, though.

"How can I possibly calm down? Do you even _know_ my brother?"

Varric kept a straight face, but Carver could tell that he was supressing a chuckle.

"Okay, spit it out. What did Hawke do this time?"

"I wish I could say it was just one thing. It's not, Varric. It's this and all the other times combined. He's a menace. He should be stopped."

"Hawke can handle himself," Varric said, while taking a sip from his pint. "You should just trust him a bit more."

"How could you say that? I'm supposed to trust my brother when he does not just not avoid templars, but actively accosts them and starts discussing mages' rights with them? I'm supposed to trust him when he says all the templars buy his excuse that he is not carrying around a mage staff, but an oddly shaped walking stick? As if _templars_ can't tell the difference between a walking stick and a staff!"

Varric's eyes sparkled fondly, and it irritated Carver immensely. Trust Varric to think his brother's irresponsible behaviour and reckless antics were funny.

"Lately, he's developed this fascination for the Knight-Captain. Just the other day, he tried to convince him that mages should not live in Circles and should instead be free. Of course, Anders was there too, as well as Merrill. Of course, Anders couldn't keep his mouth shut. We were in the Gallows, surrounded by templars—and then he just does that—to… to the Knight-Captain, of all people!"

"How did Cullen react to that?" Varric said, interested.

"Does it matter?" Carver asked, affronted.

He hadn't been really listening to the actual content of the conversation once he realized what his idiotic brother was up to. He had been frozen with apprehension, waiting for the inevitable moment the Knight-Captain—or any other Templar, really—suddenly realized they were dealing with an incredibly audacious apostate and arrested them all on the spot.

"My brother—it just seems he does not understand how risky his actions are. All it takes is one suspicious templar—and he doesn't just ignore that, he talks with the templars, goes to the Gallows, talks with the Knight-Captain, frequently discusses mages' rights in public, where people can see and hear him… Sometimes it's as if he _wants_ to be found out."

"If he wanted to be found out, I'm sure he would come up with something."

"Do not even joke about that, Varric!" Carver snapped.

Just a moment later, he realized Varric's words rung true. It was a lot harder to remain an apostate than it was to be found out as one and end up in the Circle. For all his brother's reckless actions and idiocies, no Templar had ever attempted to drag him off to a Circle.

Yet.

"What is truly bothering you, Junior?"

Carver wasn't sure how to answer that question. All he knew was that with every passing day in this city, his feelings of frustration mingled with fear grew. His brother grew more reckless every day, perhaps encouraged by the templars' inability to recognize him as an apostate. He couldn't quite put his feelings into words.

With a sigh, he picked up the new pint the barmaid had just dropped off and their table, and took a swig. He put it down, not releasing his grip.

"Garrett went to the Chantry last week. Did you hear about that? You would think he might have gone to pray, but not _my_ brother, no! I heard he went to the Revered Mother herself, and then demanded to know why the Maker would stand for the Circles of Magi."

He paused for a moment, just to give Varric some time to let that piece of information sink in. Varric didn't look nearly as surprised as Carver would've liked him to.

"If Garrett were to meet the Knight-Commander herself—I don't think he'd even hesitate."

"Hawke knows what he's doing."

Either Varric believed his words, or he had just pulled a truly impressive poker face.

"I don't think he does. I think he has no clue what he's doing."

"Perhaps," Varric said, changing strategies. "He has come this far, though. He's tough."

"He's _lucky_ ," Carved corrected with a deep frown, "Isabela told me that they fought a qunari death squad. _In the Gallows._ "

Varric's face changed, and Carver thought that the dwarf might actually understand where he was coming from now and take his side.

"Hawke did that?" Varric asked, his mouth slightly agape, "When was this? Where was I?"

He felt a very sudden and intense stab of anger.

"It's not funny. It's not impressive. It's dangerous!" Carver snapped, feeling as if he wanted nothing more than to put his hands around the dwarf's neck and squeeze, "He goes out of his way to do stupid and dangerous things. He never backs down from a fight. It seems there's rarely a night where he does _not_ fight street thugs and gangs, using his magic out in the open. Not to mention that he takes out blood mages on a regular basis. That sort of thing can't be done without leaving a trail—and sooner or later, the templars will pick up on it—or someone else will."

Carver's fingers clutched at his pint as if it was a lifeline.

"Remember that magistrate whose son he killed? Or Jeven? He has enough enemies as it is. He should keep a low profile, not attract any attention—but he just… doesn't."

"Hawke isn't the type," Varric said, almost apologetically.

"I know," Carver said, with a twinge of regret, "Our family lost everything, Varric. We lost our home, our father, Bethany… I don't know if my mother can handle losing… someone else."

"Your mother, huh?" Varric said, with a glint Carver pretended not to notice. "Honestly, Junior, I never realized how much you worry about your brother. It's very touching."

"I do not worry about him," Carver snapped, throwing the dwarf an angry look, "I worry for our mother. I do not even like him. I _hate_ him. My life would have been so much easier without him."

"Sure," Varric said lightly, "and much more boring."

"I could do with boring. At this pace, I will be grey before I turn twenty."

Varric chuckled just a bit, before he caught Carver's angry gaze.

His expression changed. He sighed deeply.

"Junior… You worry too much about your brother. Hawke can take care of himself. You make it sound as if he only goes around town trying to make enemies—but that's not true. He also has people looking out for him."

"Such as?"

"Myself. Aveline. The Rivaini. Blondie. To name a few," Varric studied his face, and noticed that Carver's frown remained. "There's a reason he has managed to evade the Circle. He has people who are grateful to him, some who feel indebted to him. They know who to talk to."

His brother had been living on luck since the day he was born.

Carver's frown deepened, and a very familiar and bitter feeling settled within his stomach.

"You know, Junior," Varric said, catching his attention, "I know what it is like to have an older brother with a knack for finding trouble. You would not believe the trouble Bartrand has caused me in the past."

"At least he isn't an apostate who keeps straying into the Gallows," Carver muttered.

"That _is_ unusual," Varric admitted, with a light chuckle, "but that is Hawke. I haven't known you and your brother for that long, but Hawke is a very… unusual character. You don't seem to like that, but at one point you have to accept that you cannot mould the people around you into what you want them to be. You can only mould yourself, Junior. Be who you want to be."

Carver threw Varric and his pint a very suspicious look, surprised by what the dwarf was saying and with such a straight face, too. He was a bit startled once he realized that Varric wasn't joking, for once.

"Be who you want to be…" Carver repeated slowly. He studied the dwarf's face as he did, looking for any sign that the dwarf was just messing with him. If there was, he missed it. "It's that simple, huh?"

"That simple," Varric said.

After that, he and Varric spent the rest of the afternoon and evening drinking in the Hanged Man. If Varric noticed Carver was quieter than usual, he didn't comment on it.

* * *

When Garrett chose his friends over his brother to accompany him to the expedition in the Deeproads, Carver couldn't pretend he was at all fine with that decision. It took him a few days before he stopped ignoring his mother, despite knowing that her pleas to his brother had not been the deciding factor in Garrett's decision.

Those weeks without his brother turned out to be a gift. He found himself thinking about his conversation with Varric at the most unexpected times, and—for the first time—there were no apostate siblings nor any of their antics to distract him from asking himself important questions about himself.

He came to a decision.

Carver knew his brother would probably not understand, and his absence made the decision a bit easier. It was not about spiting his brother—even though Garrett would most likely think it was. He knew that if Garrett one day decided to become a blood mage, he'd probably have difficulty not taking it personally, too.

Still, this was about becoming who he wanted to be.

At some point, he had realized that his place was not with his brother and his strange group of friends. Aside from their peculiarities and questionable character traits, they weren't all that bad—but he didn't want to be 'Hawke's brother' for the rest of his life, or even Junior or Little Hawke. He didn't want to be called sullen and cross, just because Garrett had this talent for getting under his skin without even trying. He didn't think he added anything to their group, and most of them didn't even seem to like him.

Carver had always felt a strong need to protect both his siblings. He had always been aware that if they were found out, that they would be taken away and he would never see them again.

Things were different now. It wasn't just his parents, his two siblings and him against the world anymore.

His mother was petitioning to the viscount to regain her status and estate. His brother seemed to be doing just fine. Varric had reassured him that he was being watched over. Even though they had had a rocky start, Carver had grown slightly fond of the dwarf over time. It seemed Carver was the only one who remained stuck in the spot he was standing.

He wanted to be his own person. He wanted to make his father proud. He had skills he could put to good use. He wanted to use his skills to protect his family, to protect others, to protect those who could not protect themselves.

And protecting was what the templars were all about.


End file.
